


happily ever after

by simplycarryon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, have some happy family fluff, post-game spoilers kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplycarryon/pseuds/simplycarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a few things the perfect bedtime story requires. Lucky for you, your friends are good at those things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happily ever after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imagymnasia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagymnasia/gifts).



> vague post-game spoilers!
> 
> imagymnasia requested happy Sans and goofy post-game interactions with Frisk and their monster family, and this is the product of that.

There’s something inherently cozy and wonderful about stretching out in front of the fireplace, letting it warm one side of you while you close your eyes and listen to the evening’s conversations. You let yourself sink into the shag carpet, your fingers twining deep in the soft thick fur of the heavy rug, and you breathe deep and slow and savor the moment. The fire crackles and pops quietly, the smell of fresh-baked bread sifts from the kitchen, and your full stomach and Toriel’s quiet murmur of snail facts lull you further into your comfortable drowse.

Until Sans ruins it, anyway.

Jerk.

“Looks like someone’s gonna have a bed time,” he says, and you groan and kick your feet a little.

“M’not tired,” you protest, as he tries to pick you up. You cling to the carpet as he lifts you, trying to stay on the floor; you honestly wouldn’t mind sleeping on the carpet even if you know you’d wake up with rug-print on your face— “Five more minutes?”

“Nope. It’s bedtime for you, sleepyhead.” Sans pries your fingers loose from the thick fibers, and defeated, you let go and resort to making yourself as heavy and boneless as possible. He grunts under the sudden strain, wobbling slightly as you make him overbalance. “C’mon, Tori, back me up here.”

“If you are tired, Frisk, you should sleep,” Toriel says, setting her book aside and propping her reading glasses on top of it. “We will all still be here in the morning, I promise.”

“Nooooooo,” you whine, stretching out the word as long as you can, sliding out of Sans’s grip, flopping jelly-like back onto the carpet. “I like it right here. It’s warm and nice.”

“So is bed,” Sans suggests, trying to pick you up again. 

You push his hands away, gently petulant, and roll out of his reach when he gives you a frustrated grin.

“Don’t make me bring out the big guns, kiddo.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

He could heft you without even touching you, carry you to your room with magic and dump you into your bed. You half expect the heavy pins-and-needles sensation of blue static to sink into your bones as he pulls back, but he just sighs a little and sits next to you, tweaking your nose between a bony finger and thumb.

“Okay, kid. You got me. How about this: I’ll tell you a bedtime story, and then you go to bed, no arguments?”

You consider the offer for a minute, and then nod. “Okay. But it has to be good. No cheating.”

“How do you cheat on a bedtime story?” he asks, and you roll over and drape yourself in his lap, shifting to accommodate the way his bones poke into your back. “I guess I could tell a really short one. Once upon a time… the end.”

_“No,”_ you protest, smacking his ribcage, still gentle. “It has to be real. With,” you consider your many options, sorting through the multitude of stories your friends have regaled you with over the past few months, “robots. Giant robots. And car chases! And explosions, and lasers, and pie, and true love—“

“Okay, whoa, slow down.” Sans puts a hand on your face, looking like he’s trying not to smile—an impressive feat for someone whose face is essentially smiling all the time. “I can do maybe two of those. Papyrus could help, if we asked, but I don’t think any of those things will help you settle down for bed.”

He removes his hand from your face, and you look at him with stars in your eyes.

“…Seriously?”

You nod, excited, and he gives you a defeated look and ruffles your hair with a gentle hand. “Can you believe this tiny extortionist, Tori?”

“If Frisk would like a bedtime story, I have a substantial collection of them,” Toriel replies mildly, offering him a large book bound in leather and silver. “Although I am afraid none of mine contain giant robots or explosions.”

“That’s okay,” you say, reaching lazily for the book. Toriel sets it on your chest, and you hold it close and feel a little like you’re being squashed by _knowledge,_ the weight of it sinking you further into Sans’s lap and fixing you in place. “Papyrus and Sans can improve them! With magic! And sound effects!”

“No promises, kid,” Sans says, shifting to cup his hands around his mouth, like it’ll help the sound carry further. “Hey, Papyrus! Come help me tell a bedtime story!”

You wait, wiggling your toes in the carpet, and listen for the heavy sound of boots on wood flooring. There’s a crash—the sound of a box of action figures being tossed aside in skeletal haste, you think—and then Papyrus skids into the room, followed closely by Undyne.

“A bedtime story?” he demands, excitement radiating from every inch of him. “For me??”

“For Frisk here,” Sans says, and you raise your hands lazily from under your book in acknowledgement of that detail. “They want something with giant robots and car chases.”

“And explosions and lasers and pie and true love,” you remind him, not willing to miss out on those very imporant parts of the quintessential bedtime story. 

“Well, you are in luck, tiny human, because I, the great Papyrus, am very good at telling those kinds of stories!” Papyrus informs you brightly, posing with his hands on his hips. It’s a pretty cool gesture, you think, giving him a sleepy thumbs-up.

A cool gesture that’s ruined almost immediately as Undyne wraps an arm around his neck and grinds a sharp-knuckled fist against his head, her grin full of teeth and amusement. “We’ll tell you the perfect bedtime story, squirt! Leave the robots and explosions to me!”

“I can do the car chase parts!” Papyrus volunteers, trying to pry himself free of her iron grip, to no avail.

“Guess that leaves me with the lasers, at least. Can’t say I know much about true love or pie.” Sans half-turns to Toriel, trying not to shift so much that his bones dig into your spine. “Tori, you wanna give us a hand with those bits?”

“Why, I suppose I could, if Frisk does not mind the storytelling input of an old lady,” Toriel replies, her smile growing just the tiniest fondest bit. You wriggle excitedly, settling in for what promises to be the best story _ever_.

 

 

Five minutes later, you’re standing outside the house alongside Undyne, bundled in her leather jacket as you watch the other three monsters attempt to contain the raging magical inferno.

“Too much explosion?” Undyne asks with an enormous sharp-toothed grin, more thoroughly amused with the situation than she really should be.


End file.
